


Come of Age (with our young nation)

by silveryink



Series: Blow Us All Away [1]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Angst, Assassination Attempt(s), Found Family, Friendship, Gaang (Avatar), Gaang (Avatar) as Family, Gen, Politics, Post-Canon, Post-War, all the relationships are in the background, bakoda aka the ship i never thought i needed but will always treasure, this one's also offscreen guys, watch me infodump about history and economics into this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:20:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25594183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silveryink/pseuds/silveryink
Summary: The tale of a world at war, won by children trying to heal.
Relationships: Aang & Katara (Avatar), Aang & Zuko (Avatar), Aang/Katara (Avatar), Bato & Katara (Avatar), Bato/Hakoda (Avatar), Hakoda & Katara (Avatar), Hakoda & Zuko (Avatar), Mai & Ty Lee (Avatar), Mai/Ty Lee (Avatar), Minor or Background Relationship(s), Sokka & Suki & Zuko (Avatar), Sokka/Suki (Avatar)
Series: Blow Us All Away [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1901056
Comments: 24
Kudos: 583
Collections: AtLA <10k fics to read





	Come of Age (with our young nation)

**Author's Note:**

> So, this started out as a simple companion another fic I wrote a while ago, and then completely spiralled out of control. I was going to focus more on post-war politics but it all became more introspective and character-driven than that, and what was I, the poor writer being dragged along on this journey, supposed to do but write what I got?
> 
> This is still technically a companion fic, so it's staying that way.
> 
> Title from Hamilton, for thematic appropriateness.

For three years, all Zuko had wanted was to go home. Everything he’d done during that time had been in preparation of his return. Uncle had even wrangled him into keeping up his education alongside searching for the Avatar, which he is now unbelievably grateful for. Even though he hasn’t stepped foot in the palace for years, he still has all his princely etiquette lessons drilled into his mind thanks to Iroh.

And, of course, his brief stint as a worker in a tea shop, which turned out to be more humbling than the easy job he’d assumed it would be, initially.

He inhales, and exhales. Reaches deep for his inner flame, and cradles it before letting it flow through his chi paths.

Punches out a fist, watches the burst of fire with mild disinterest. This is the first _real_ firebending he’s done since the fight in the catacombs of Ba Sing Se, and the first training set since…

Since before he cut off his top knot.

His next inhale is ragged, but when he lets muscle memory take over the rest of the kata, his flames are no less consistent. They feel somewhat different than they used to, but he chalks it up to the residual guilt and conflict he’d felt back in the Earth Kingdom. There’s no point thinking about it anymore. Uncle Iroh made his choices and Zuko made his, and now he’s back home with his father’s grace.

 _Perhaps such a thing shouldn’t be earned,_ a small voice whispers, but Zuko quells it before it can become a roar. He’s made his choice, he reminds himself, and smoothly moves to the next set. He switches between running them cold and hot, and almost doesn’t notice the presence watching over him until they’re walking away.

No, not ‘they’ – _he_.

The glint of the Fire Lord’s crown catches the very corner of his vision, and he almost turns and stops his firebending until he realizes that his father has already turned past the corridor to the next. He’s not entirely sure what this means, but the fact that he wasn’t called out means that his bending is probably up to standard. Still, a chill settles in the pit of his stomach and he runs through the rest of his forms without summoning a single spark.

The next time he bends, it’s well past midnight.

It still doesn’t feel entirely safe, but Zuko will take what he gets.

If Mai notices that he’s not getting much sleep, she doesn’t mention it or wake him when he drifts off in the middle of their dates. It doesn’t happen often, which is the only reason she hasn’t brought it up yet, but Zuko feels terrible about it all the same. He _likes_ spending time with Mai, even when it’s mostly comfortable silences while they’re staring into the sunset with their hands entwined, or walking around the palace with only the occasional comment.

Of course, the rest of the time he’s in the palace, he still has to carry out his duties as prince. He doesn’t try to attend another meeting, after his first – and _only_ – disaster of one, but the desk jobs he gets assigned to aren’t all that bad. They’re mostly related to scanning through the rosters of various soldiers and checking which ones are most suitable for promotion, or the occasional scouts’ reports. At one point, he’s accidentally assigned the management of the budget of a rural district in the outer islands, and he finds that he catches the major issues are mostly related to the amount requested for buying more weapons versus actual necessities the people would need.

It's not even a military outpost, he thinks, as he roughly outlines the changes that would easily stabilise the current state of their economy. Besides, with the report that came in last week about the region-wise expenditure on weapons, they’re asking for far more than they actually need. Mostly, they’d need maintenance for the larger, more intricate systems such as trebuchets, but they already _have_ the funds for those. This just seems excessive, and Zuko thinks he knows exactly where that excess money is going.

He calculates the new budget for the area painstakingly, triple-checking his math so that he doesn’t have to send it to some official who would rather let it collect dust than lift a finger to help.

Where had _that_ thought come from?

Zuko silently rolls up the scroll, making sure that his penmanship is immaculate, and seals it shut. He slides it into the protective case and caps _that_ shut, before bending the candlelight out. The guards assume he’s on his way to the hawkery so that he can send his message to the island and let him pass without much fuss. They don’t follow him either, which he should be more worried about (considering he’s the prince and should probably more protected) but isn’t really.

Because his first stop is his Uncle’s cell in the prison tower.

When he returns to the palace, he can’t sleep.

He runs through cold katas until dawn, and simply hopes he won’t be summoned for an audience with his father for the rest of the day.

By the next sunrise, he’s sailing for the coast of Ember Island.

* * *

Sokka wakes up in the middle of the night and for a good minute has no idea why. The moonlight shines through the open windows, and his heart aches as he diverts his gaze to the space beside him.

The very _empty_ space beside him, he realises, when he doesn’t see the blanketed lump that was Suki when he slipped into bed beside her a few hours ago. For a moment, he considers whether he should go looking for her – she must have had a reason for sneaking out at this spirits-awful hour of night without trying to rouse him, after all – but concern outweighs his instinct to give her space if she needs it and he carefully tiptoes downstairs into the common area.

As he crosses into the kitchen, he notices a light out of the corner of his eye and automatically turns towards it. A bonfire, presumably lit by Zuko. He squints at the shadowy forms beside the warm light and realises that the broody firebender must have been joined by Suki whenever she’d woken up. He leaps out of the window and crosses over to them, taking care to announce his presence so that he doesn’t startle them. It’s only been a few days since Azula found them at the Western Air Temple, so they’re all still a bit jumpy. Well. Suki, Zuko and he are. He’s not so sure that Aang and Katara are, and it takes a lot to faze Toph.

“Sokka,” Zuko greets, automatically reaching out to pour a cup of tea for him. He must have brought out the entire set by instinct, Sokka realises. He’s noticed by now that preparing tea is something Zuko finds calming, even if he isn’t overly fond of the drink itself. And he does, just not the leaves he’d used at the Air Temple which he'd read about but never actually tried.

Sokka accepts his drink with a nod and curls wordlessly into Suki’s side. It’s oolong, he recalls from Zuko’s rambles. Not his favourite – no, that one is jasmine, coincidentally also Zuko’s even if he hasn’t quite mastered getting the temperature right. Though he does brew a mean chamomile, perfect for the days when the heat gets to Sokka and the only thing that helps is the ironically hot tea and also cuddles from Suki.

“It’s one of _those_ nights, then?” he asks, to no one in particular. Suki answers anyway with a nod.

“It’s just… we have a month and a half to end the war,” she murmurs. “It’s not a lot of time, and Aang is still learning firebending.”

“Zuko thinks he can make it,” Sokka says with a shrug, and turns to the other boy. “You are, right?”

The firebender rolls his eyes characteristically but nods. He doesn’t give away any more details, but that’s okay. Sokka can pick up his non-verbal cues well by now, after all the observing he’d been doing while they sparred at the Air Temple. Suki has become close to the grouchy prince too, a friendship he hadn’t expected but at least isn’t as completely mind-boggling like Zuko and Aang’s. That one had come out of nowhere, but then he supposes that there must have been at least _some_ truth to the phrase ‘opposites attract’ outside of the literal magnetism explanation.

“He’s a kid,” Suki says, and Sokka’s shoulders droop. He’d been trying his best not to think about it all day while watching his sister, Aang and Toph playing in mud under the guise of group training exercises. Zuko had declined the opportunity to join in, so the three of them had spent the morning together as well, exploring the various rooms of the abandoned vacation house and roasting (pun _absolutely_ intended) the décor choices to get at least one smile out of the subdued prince.

“War comes to us all,” Sokka quotes, and Zuko’s gaze _snaps_ to him.

“Is that–”

“They shouldn’t have to fight it,” Suki continues.

Zuko exhales shakily, in time with the fire. “Neither should we,” he says softly, and Sokka has to strain his ears to hear it.

“No,” Suki agrees.

“If only Sozin hadn’t…”

Sokka hums. “Don’t beat yourself up over it,” he tells Zuko. “Don’t get me wrong, genocide is never right, but you weren’t born until propaganda became part of your culture.”

“It became our culture,” Zuko corrects with a sigh. “Ozai even banned most theatre in the last few years, did you know that? The only scrolls I could find were the ones Uncle bought me in the Earth Kingdom. There are only a few troupes left in the Fire Nation, and all they’re allowed to perform is – is–”

“Propaganda,” Suki finishes, downing the rest of her tea with a grimace at the heat.

“No one’s allowed to enjoy things anymore,” Zuko whispers, staring miserably into the fire. “The Fire Lord made sure of that, and I can’t believe how _blind_ I was to it all until I had it.”

“You’ll change things in the future,” Sokka rushes to assure him.

“Yeah, you and your Uncle care about your people. I know that you’d rather lay your life on the line than see their lives be destroyed like this,” Suki adds.

Zuko hums listlessly but looks less bleak than he did a minute ago, which Sokka counts as a victory.

“I didn’t want to take today from the kids,” Zuko says at last. “That’s why I didn’t join in. Don’t get me wrong, I loved spending this morning with you guys, but they needed some time to themselves too, without having _any_ reminders of the war.”

Suki flicks a _look_ at Sokka, who knows her well enough to guess what she’s thinking. There’s something about the way their friend phrased that that doesn’t really sit well with him, but since he can’t quite put his finger on it, he lets it slide. He doesn’t miss the way Zuko called the others ‘the kids’, even though that’s what they are. Everyone on their team is so unbelievably competent at what they do, so much so that it’s almost painful. Sokka catches himself sometimes thinking about how Katara had stepped up to take on the role of the backbone of the family, the one to hold them all together, when the raiders had killed Mom, how Aang tirelessly and relentlessly mastered two elements in less than a year after already being exceptional at his own and was now close to doing so with his fourth.

And, really, he doesn’t even need to point out how great Toph is at doing stuff in general. He’d spotted her practicing her sandbending with a dedication he had come to associate with urgency and danger lapping at their heels and quickly walked away, though not before noticing the small, pleased expression she wore after she presumably mastered what she’d set out to do.

Not to mention Suki, the leader of the Kyoshi Warriors at fifteen and standing strong after whatever she’d been through in the Boiling Rock. And Zuko, who’d been hopeful and idealistic in all the wrong ways before setting his goals straight, who’d walked away from what Sokka assumed had been a cushy life as Fire Prince (aside from the looming presence of Ozai, of course) to do the hard thing and join their group even though he’d had no idea of how they’d accept him, who always, _always_ got up when he fell down.

And, finally, Sokka himself. Self-declared warrior of their tribe at thirteen, and now an actual one with a list of battles fought and everything. Truly, he doesn’t know what he’d do if he didn’t have any of his friends with him. He doesn’t let himself think about what would happen if they lost the war – that, he tells himself, is _not_ an option.

He knows that Suki and Zuko tell themselves the same thing every night before they go to sleep.

Or whatever in Tui’s name Zuko does, because Sokka _knows_ that the firebender is useless at resting when he needs to. It’s a conversation he’ll have with Suki before deciding a plan of action for, of course. They don’t have to worry their resident healer, Katara, about it, of course – for both Zuko’s sake and all of theirs.

“Aang can’t afford to take days off,” Sokka murmurs, and now Zuko looks _sad_.

“I know,” he admits. “Believe me, I know. But I’d like him to have one day like this to have fun. We’ve all grown too fast in a warzone, but he hasn’t.”

Sometimes, it’s almost easy to forget that Aang is technically from a time that none of them have seen, one where the four nations got along in complete harmony, one filled with peace and joy and whatever else that came with it. He can’t really blame Zuko for this.

“Understandable,” he mutters. “I would do the same for Katara and Toph.”

“You did, dummy,” Suki counters. “And to be fair, we needed a break too. You both have been running yourself to the ground, between training, sparring, and planning.

“So have you,” Zuko protests. “Don’t think I don’t see you scouting around the manor’s boundaries at sunset.”

Suki sighs. “It’s a habit, I guess. The Kyoshi Warriors are the closest thing the island had to a standing army, so we’d take turns patrolling every few hours.”

“They’d be safe, right?” Zuko asks with a frown.

“The Unagi will eat any other ships in the harbour,” Suki assures him.

The rest of the conversation is equally soft and weighted, and by the time the three of them drift off into a comfortable sleep (after they dragged Zuko into a cuddle pile, of course), none of them notice a pair of grey eyes watching them from inside the manor.

* * *

By the time they herd Aang, Katara and Toph to bed, Suki realises that she hasn’t felt an ounce of drowsiness. By all means, despite whatever nonsense they’d just watched, she should probably feel a bit tired, but she’s as wide awake as Zuko at dawn. Speaking of Zuko, the firebender seems to be of the same state.

“Down to the courtyard, then,” Sokka offers hesitantly.

Zuko nods and steps into the kitchen. “You guys head down without me, I’ll join you after getting the tea set.”

The couple links arms and swiftly finds stray branches on the ground that they can use as kindling. Sokka lets her set up the bonfire while he forages for more firewood. A few branches are damper than the rest, so Suki swiftly rearranges her pile into something layered that would draw the lingering water out and burn through the fuel _slowly_. Besides, she suspects that Zuko will be using this pile for meditation practice, which meant longer-lasting fire for them.

Predictably enough, this is _exactly_ what Zuko does. He also brings the pot of still-heating water with him as well as three cups and a sachet of jasmine tea.

It’s _perfect_.

“Teabending,” Sokka mutters, sipping slowly at the cup. Suki catches on to his train of thought and snorts, while Zuko rolls his eyes. They seem to be on the same wavelength, which is a relief. Her Kyoshi Warriors were amazing, but they never really understood her type of humour the way these two did. She supposes it’s the same for them, too.

“I can’t believe you guys took me to that play when you _know_ which ones I like,” Zuko complains.

“You need to diversify your range,” Sokka says imperiously. “All that romance and tragedy gets to your head.”

“That’s not _all_ I’ve read!”

“Yeah, those dramas aren’t helping either,” he adds nonchalantly, flicking a speck of imaginary dust from his tunic. Well. Perhaps not imaginary – they _are_ sitting on the sandy flagstones that were a staple of Ember Island. Suki’s used to this coastal sight, and Zuko doesn’t seem to be too out of place here either, but Sokka probably finds it a little strange to be so close to the ocean and not feel the polar chill he lived with for sixteen years.

“I mean, actor-me just needed a push in the right direction, but Katara was… yikes,” her boyfriend says slowly. “She’s not that weepy, though she could probably tearbend if she wanted to.”

Suki remembers a conversation she’d had with Katara a few days ago when Aang and Zuko had been off training and they’d been in charge of breakfast about _bloodbending_. Yeah, Katara could absolutely ‘tearbend’ if she thought about it. She probably wouldn’t, is all.

“And as for that conversation in the catacombs–”

Zuko raises his hands in a show of innocence. “She offered to heal my scar with the spirit water, that’s all. She told me about your mom, and I told her that mine was gone too. None of _that_ happened.”

Sokka’s eyes are still narrowed. Suki holds back from a visible – or audible – reaction.

“Sokka, your sister’s great, but I do _not_ see her that way,” the prince says exasperatedly. “Besides, I’m pretty sure there’s something going on between her and Aang that I really don’t want to get in the middle of.”

“Oh, that. They’ve been like that for ages.” Sokka shrugs casually, convinced by Zuko’s assurances. “Bringing it up doesn’t really help, so we just learned to leave it be.”

Zuko shakes his head with a sigh and returns to staring at the fire. They sit silently for a long while, simply enjoying each others’ company, completely missing the three heads peeking out from the balcony above them.

“Does this happen regularly?” Toph murmurs. “Cause it sounds like a routine.”

“Regular enough,” Aang whispers back. “I heard them talking a few days after we came here, I guess they just need some time with people their age.”

Katara’s heart aches. It’s true, though. Out of the three teenagers around the fire pit, Suki is probably the most socialised. Sokka had been left with company consisting of either her or kids several years his junior. And Zuko had told them all about his isolated childhood, after all. They were probably his first friends, and that was a thought she didn’t feel like diving deep into right now.

“We should give them some space,” she decides, gently leading Aang and Toph back to the room they’d appropriated as a common sleeping area, lined with plush blankets, soft mattresses, and the finest goose-feather pillows the Fire Nation had to offer. Even if Aang had to airbend the dust formed of years of disuse out of them.

She glanced back at them and saw that they’d all fallen asleep around the fire. They’ve all had to grow up too fast, but they’re stealing the moments they can get. The mud fight from a few weeks ago, these late-night meetings, and all the other little things during the day that punctuated their non-stop training and planning. And, yeah, each of them pulls their own weight while looking out for everyone else, but she has a feeling their weights are heavier than hers, Aang’s and Toph’s.

They’ve stolen all the moments they could, but Katara thinks this one’s something they can afford.

* * *

Mai is still reeling from her talk with Zuko when she joins Ty Lee in the gardens. They’ve taken a seat at their usual spot, only it’s now empty since Zuko moved his quarters to the other wing of the palace. She doesn’t blame him for wanting to avoid bad memories that lurk around every corner. She didn’t know the extent of Ozai’s abuse, but when one considers a literal branding to be just punishment, she supposes that their standards must have been lower than _low_.

“Hey, Mai,” Ty Lee greets, bounding up to hug her. She’s grown used to her friend’s casual touches without having to guard her own responses – what was the point, in prison?

She brings her own arms up around Ty Lee, burying her face in the young acrobat’s shoulder. Ty Lee stills and starts to rub circles into her back, something she would normally have not allowed but finds comforting right now. “Mai?”

“We were wrong,” she mumbles, dazed, and pulls away from her friend. “All we learned about the Fire Nation and the war – it was _wrong_.”

Ty Lee exhales an ‘ah’ and hugs her again. “Yeah, I know.”

“You _know_?”

“No one joins the circus because their life is amazing,” she says pointedly. “There were many kids whose households were ruined by the war. Their villages were turned to military outposts, or their parents were out of jobs because of all the restrictions… Not to mention that most of them were from the colonies.”

Mai hears what she isn’t saying, of course. Children from the colonies who weren’t nobility tended to be of both Fire Nation and Earth Kingdom ancestry, and looked down on by both countries. No doubt that was a mess all on its own – one that Zuko would try to fix, thankfully. He seems to be set on doing that a lot now – fixing things, cleaning up his own ancestors’ messes. He’d apologised to her this morning, and when she’d asked her for an explanation, he’d given it wholeheartedly.

Spirits.

She doesn’t regret having all this new knowledge, of course – but she’d simply meant she needed to know why he thought breaking up with her via a _letter_ had been a good idea. Then again, ‘idea’ wasn’t something in her friend’s vocabulary. Frankly, she has no idea how he hasn’t run out of luck with his excellent instincts.

“The Air Nomads didn’t have a standing army.”

Not ‘ _Air Nation’_. They were monks, _pacifists_. The Avatar himself had been so revolted by the idea of slaying someone, even if that someone had been Ozai. Truly, it’s a wonder he gets along well with them all, but according to the Water Tribe warrior, he’s just… _like that_.

She’s friends with Ty Lee. She can handle an overly excitable twelve-year-old whose main mission is to befriend literally everyone in the world.

“No, they didn’t,” Ty Lee agrees. “I found this volume, a restricted copy that my parents didn’t know about in the rafters. I read it in secret and left it there. It was kind of why I ran away,” she adds. “My aura was grey and dull for _months_ after that.”

“The universe gave you strong messages to leave, huh?”

“Yeah! I mean, I didn’t really want to stay with my parents and be some kind of showpiece beside my sisters. I wanted to be _me_ , and I couldn’t do that with Azula either, but I could be free in the circus, at least.”

“You can be free now,” Mai says in a rush. “Zuko says he’s speaking with the Avatar about old customs he can revive, like… dance parties, and parties in general.”

Ty Lee laughs, a lovely, tinkling sound. “That sounds amazing,” she says earnestly. “By the way, his name’s Aang and he’s really sweet to talk to when he’s not fighting you.”

Mai quirks up an eyebrow. “So I’ve found.”

Ty Lee grins and drags her down to sit by the vacant pond. “I asked him about the Air Nomads,” she says softly. “I had a few distant ancestors, so I wanted to know about what happened to them. He said that Sozin ordered the genocide because of him – because the Avatar cycle goes from Fire to Air.”

Mai sighs and rests her head on her knees, hugging them tightly. “Zuko said that the same thing happened to the Southern Water Tribe,” she replies. “The next Avatar was predicted to be born there, so the raiders were given permission to either imprison or kill any waterbenders they found.”

“That’s _awful_ ,” Ty Lee breathes. “We didn’t know that the Air Avatar had died with the others.”

“Yeah,” Mai chokes out. “It was _wrong_ , and unnecessary, and everyone just stood by and _let it happen_ , and now it’s up to a bunch of teenagers and kids to make it all better.”

Her best friend deflates. “They expect too much of Aang,” she murmurs. “I had to rescue the kid from a few advisors after the coronation, he looked absolutely swamped. They were asking him about irrigation plans in the middle of a party.” She huffs, somewhat upset on behalf of the young airbender. “He’s _twelve_. I didn’t know much about _irrigation plans_ until our last year at the Academy.”

Mai hums. “I’m going to help him,” she decides. “Zuko, I mean. You know how he’ll be – he’ll try to do too much, too fast, and wear himself out. I mean, we’re still teenagers, but he needs advisors he can trust.”

Ty Lee squeezes her hand. “That’s a great idea,” she exclaims. “He’d love to work with you, I know it. But what happened between you guys? You were so mad at him until, like, last week.”

Mai wonders if the shift in her expression at the words is something she imagines, and brushes the thought away. “I chewed him out for breaking up with me like that, and he apologised. It was a real, proper apology too – I’m genuinely impressed he didn’t stumble through it.”

Ty Lee shrugs. “He’s sincere,” she points out, and that’s fair enough. Zuko’s honesty has got him into a _lot_ of trouble in the past, but this wasn’t one of those times.

“True. We talked about it, and realised that we really aren’t good for each other like – like _that_.”

Ty Lee frowns. The expression is so out of place on her that Mai wants to wipe it away, and _that_ line of thought startles her so much that she nearly misses what Ty Lee says next.

“You said – at the Boiling Rock – you said that you loved him.”

“I do,” she says easily. “He’s one of my best friends, and he agreed that we love each other exactly like that and nothing else.”

Ty Lee turns this over in her mind carefully and nods, before leaping up smoothly and practically _beaming_. She reaches out to grab Mai’s hand, and her smile is so infectious that Mai can’t help but copy the expression, feeling her face heat up as she does.

“Suki told me that today they’re introducing the turtleducklings they found wandering around to their new home in the other pond, d’you want to come see?”

Mai doesn’t even think about it.

“ _Yes_.”

* * *

Three months into the end of a war Aang had only seen the final scenes of, he’s stuck in council meetings.

They’re not so bad – Zuko makes sure he doesn’t get targeted by some of the dignitaries, who insist on having his voice heard for every little detail even when Aang _doesn’t know_ what they’re talking about. Zuko has assured him several times that what he’s doing right now is enough, he’ll make sure he isn’t overburdened with issues that frankly can be solved without outside intervention, that most nobles are used to sucking up to higher authority figures for their egos and statuses, so he shouldn’t let it bother him too much.

Aang likes solving disputes. He’s good at it, yeah, and he likes ending conflict when he sees it. He just doesn’t like the way the representatives from all over the world seem to eye him like the Unagi did back in Kyoshi Island.

A glint of gold catches at the peripherals of his sight and he flicks his eyes towards the shadowed form of a Kyoshi Warrior, half hidden by the sconces that line the walls of the council room, and glances back at his notes. He has no idea what he’s supposed to do about taxes on international trade, but clearly _something_ must be done about it. Zuko keeps the conversation sternly amongst the right representatives and makes sure they don’t corner Aang with something he doesn’t know how to handle.

He normally hates being handled, but he knows that’s not what’s happening here. And, really, he appreciates his friend’s diligence in only involving him where his input was really needed, instead of every small thing and accidentally causing a whole other mess that would be harder to clean up.

“Imposing import restrictions simply proves that you aren’t trying to improve international trade,” an Earth Kingdom ambassador protests, snapping Aang back to the dizzying conversation happening right now.

“Ambassador Prithvi,” Zuko sighs, “this is only a temporary measure. An inward-looking strategy would help develop our domestic economy, and once we’ve progressed from mass-producing weaponry and basic amenities to all other resources a peaceful society requires, opening up the–”

“And what of the Earth Kingdom’s economy?” the ambassador retorts. “You’ve _ruined_ our people by waging war on us; and now you’d ruin our international income as well?”

Zuko exhales slowly, deliberately, and Aang catches the clench of his fist against the desk as he carefully formulates a reply. “And we will pay reparations for those damages as well as supply manpower to help rebuilding wherever necessary,” he grits out. “It doesn’t mean–”

“I must insist–”

“Ambassador,” Bumi interrupts calmly, sipping some tea to punctuate the pause, “Fire Lord Zuko’s plan is an excellent model for the restoration of our _own_ economy, I don’t see why we cannot slowly hash out a trade deal as we let it recover.”

A flush spreads across Zuko’s cheeks, as was to be expected as a result of being complimented, even indirectly. Aang holds himself back from shaking his head with amusement, since it would both be inappropriate for the situation and he’s almost certain it has something to do with the firebender’s terrible self-esteem. He’s gotten better at accepting his skills and openly talking about them instead of shoving them under a rank with firebending being the highest priority.

But back to the meeting.

“Why don’t we return to this topic some other day? We might have better results negotiating such deals between two nations at a time; that way we can identify the major areas that need focus and work on them with the relevant attention they need, instead of cramming them all into a single summit?” The ‘request’ is more of an order, and Zuko reclaims lead over the room as he dismisses the officials and nods gratefully at Bumi. If Aang doesn’t know better, he’d say his friend is a bit starstruck by his _other_ friend’s political manoeuvring.

The moment the doors shut behind the final ambassador and clerk, Zuko lets his head drop onto the large desk with an audible _thunk_ and a groan. He moves to grip his hair tightly, a gesture Aang has come to recognise after knowing him in all these months, but Aang bats his hands away and gently extracts his crown from Zuko’s top knot, as well as the metal band holding his hair together. The shaggy locks fall over what little is visible of his face, but Aang can hear the pleased hum he makes all too well.

“You could just _not_ wear the crown,” he offers. “Let your hair grow out a bit first. You’re getting way too many headaches these days.”

“I’ve always gotten headaches,” Zuko grumbles. “Sometimes, they’re just worse.”

Aang pats his shoulder in sympathy. “Like today?”

“Like today.”

“You could still not wear your crown,” Aang repeats. “No one would say anything.”

“My generals would pounce on it like pygmy pumas,” Zuko counters. “Though it _is_ a very inviting prospect to not have my hair nearly ripped out everyday.”

“I can’t do much about that, but… thanks for helping with the meeting today. You’re great out there, you know? If they’d started asking me about… export replacement systems–”

“Import substitution?”

“I’d have been a puddle on the floor,” Aang concludes. “How do you _know_ all this stuff?”

Zuko straightens and flicks Aang’s forehead lightly. “For one thing, I’m older than you.”

Aang pouts.

“For another,” the Fire Lord continues, “I was raised in this palace. My cousin may have been in line for the throne for the most part, but I’d still have my duties to the Fire Nation if he’d survived the war.”

“What would have happened, hypothetically speaking? To princes who aren’t the direct line of succession?”

“Technically, we _are_ in the line of succession,” Zuko says, not noticing the slip, “but if you were the second-born and had kids, like Ozai, you and your heirs would have higher positions in councils, be in charge of diplomatic relations – through marriage, if needed, and so on. During the war, it meant that my – that Ozai held the power that most soldiers would have earned by rising through ranks – though that’s not true if you’re nobility – without having to raise a finger. Azula and I might have held similar positions once we were of age, with Uncle or Lu Ten being the Fire Lord.”

Aang can tell that there’s a lot more to it, but he just lets his friend talk. For a moment, Aang almost regrets letting Ozai live, because he can’t understand how anyone can just toss aside someone like _Zuko_ , especially with such steadfast loyalty like his own. He’s also kind of glad that Zuko joined them, in the end. If he’d had to fight the guy and Ozai had played his cards right… yikes.

“Azula might have actually joined the Imperial Firebenders and become the Fire Lord’s personal guard or advisor, based on Ozai’s wish, and I might have been advisor or some sort of diplomat.”

“And you’d have been okay with it?”

Zuko shrugs. “Honestly? Yeah. Not the whole _being constantly supervised by my abusive dad_ bit, but diplomacy isn’t terrible. I might have offered to become a scribe, if it didn’t work out for me.”

Aang thinks it _did_ work out for him, but he’s seen Zuko’s penmanship and note-taking skills. He would be an incredible scribe, he thinks.

“And being married for alliances?”

“A lot of noble families marry for status and alliances with powerful families,” Zuko explains gently. “Toph might have told you about that. If she didn’t run away, she might have been betrothed to someone from a wealthy household with enough power to keep her safe and sheltered while guaranteeing some kind of social climb for the Beifongs.”

“They’re already rich enough,” Aang mutters. Zuko snorts.

“Yeah, Toph said so. Point is, she wouldn’t have had any say in it. I was actually betrothed to Mai before my banishment, but that kind of annulled the deal.”

“You like Mai, though,” Aang wonders.

“Sure, but we’ve come to the conclusion that we’re better off as friends. Getting married and staying _friendly_ is one of the good outcomes,” Zuko adds. “My mom got the short end of the stick when she was forced to marry Ozai. Most couples tend to put on a show in public and be indifferent to each other behind closed doors.”

“You could end that, though,” he says, thinking about Princess Yue and how miserable Sokka had been when he’d found out about her loveless engagement with that jerk Hahn. Zuko shakes his head apologetically.

“This one’s not even a law,” he says. “It’s all social pressure. I’d have to lead by example for this one and getting married isn’t really high on my list at the moment. I’d say it’s nowhere near it, actually.”

Aang sighs and rises. “This is exhausting,” he complains, stretching. “How do you do this everyday?”

Zuko chuckles. “It’ll get easier, I guess. You get used to dealing with it.”

Somehow, Aang gets the feeling he’s not just talking about these meetings anymore. He stays silent and waits to see if Zuko has anything to add, but the teenager just gets up with another groan and throws a hand out for balance when he sways on his feet.

“Seriously, are you okay?”

“Yeah, my leg fell asleep,” he says sheepishly, wincing when he shifts his weight to said limb.

“You know what’ll loosen it up quick?”

“Let me guess. You want to spar?”

Aang nods and hauls Zuko out towards the training grounds. “Yep! I haven’t trained in days, and it’s your job as my teacher to make sure I practice.”

“Hang on, I was done when I said you were a master.”

“Sure, Sifu Hotman.”

“And quit calling me that!”

* * *

Katara doesn’t stay in the Fire Nation long after Zuko heals from his lightning wound. Aang travels all over the world, of course, and occasionally visits the South Pole, but she’s looking forward to seeing all her friends again. Sokka had gone with Suki to Kyoshi Island to continue his own training in their fighting style (and also for quality time with his girlfriend), and had written to tell her that he'd be there as well and was dying to see her – and their dad – again.

Hakoda stands to the front of the ship next to Bato, and there’s an easiness to the way they’re simply _talking_ that reminds her of Aang. She misses him a _lot_ , of course, and is more excited to see him than nearly everyone else. Not that she’ll tell Sokka.

She joins them as the coast of the volcanic island housing Caldera City comes into view over the horizon, and Dad automatically moves to wrap a hand around her shoulders warmly. She rests a hand on Bato’s for a moment in greeting before leaning against the familiar wooden railing and watching the shore grow closer by the moment.

“You’re excited,” Hakoda comments.

“It’s been three months,” is her only reply. Her dad squeezes her shoulder and drops his hand, moving away to call out to the crew that they’ve sighted land and will be approaching harbour soon, _so get moving_.

“It’s strange to be here,” Bato comments. “The last run-ins I had with the Fire Nation weren’t exactly great.”

No, they weren’t. “Zuko’s helping,” she says. “All things considered, he’s doing well. The peace talks with the Northern Tribe went well, apparently, according to Aang’s letters. They think it would be easier with the South, even though there will be more discussions.”

Bato hums. “They _do_ need to pay reparations,” he agrees.

Katara nods. Despite the way she’s made peace with Zuko, even accepted him as her family, the Fire Nation’s crimes against the Southern Water Tribe are vast. She has no doubt that the Fire Lord will do his best to compensate and offer assistance wherever he can, but no doubt those talks will be _hard_.

“Bato… could you try to make the meetings go easy for Zuko? Don’t – I don’t mean you shouldn’t bring up the things they’ve done, that’s the whole point, but he tends to… um.”

Fortunately, Bato gets the hint. “I’ll make sure ‘Koda doesn’t run his mouth,” he says wryly. “I can’t make promises for the others, but I’ll do my best to make sure that everything is civil and done in order.”

She hugs him tightly. “Thanks, Bato.”

The harbour, as Katara expected, carries the air of having prepared for an event rather hastily. People are waiting to greet the Southern Water Tribe’s delegation, but it’s obvious that they’re not entirely sure what to do. Fortunately, she spots some familiar faces at the front, and the moment the gangplank is lowered, she races down to embrace her family. Aang practically throws himself at her, and Sokka barrels into them a moment later, squeezing them into a giant embrace.

“It’s good to see you guys,” she mutters into her brother’s shoulder.

“I missed you too, Katara,” Aang replies. Sokka just smiles, foregoing words for once as he races up the plank to run right into Dad and Bato next, and from the shouts she hears, she guesses that he almost accidentally shoved them over into the water.

Toph walks up and punches her in the shoulder. “Hey, Sugar Queen,” she greets. It’s much more cordial than she’d expected, but she accepts it with a grin and a quick reply. Suki and Zuko hang back a little, and she notices that the firebender looks a little worn out even as he beams and lets her pull him into a hug of his own.

He doesn’t stay and talk for long, because he has to greet Dad and the rest of the delegation formally like the Fire Lord he is, but she slips into soft chatter with Suki and Sokka as they’re escorted to the large and _very_ fancy Komodo-rhino carriages and are driven to the palace. Zuko rides up front with Aang, Dad and Bato, as they’re the faces of this summit, while she, Suki, Sokka and Toph all bundle into the next carriage, barely ceasing their conversation.

By the time she can talk to Aang privately, it’s well past nightfall. Katara catches a glint of light on one of the balconies and is surprised to find the familiar garb of a Kyoshi Warrior standing guard.

“When did _that_ happen?” she asks, curious.

Aang follows her line of sight and his expression falls. “An assassin snuck into Zuko’s room through the window,” he says shortly.

“ _What_?”

“He said he’d been expecting it at _some_ point – most leaders have attempts on their lives, but this has to be some sort of record. The guy nearly got him too, but he acted on reflex and fought back.”

“Did they interrogate…” her question trails away at the sight of Aang’s face.

“He killed him,” Aang says. “He didn’t realise – but it happened. He looked absolutely horrified, though, couldn’t sleep for the rest of the night so we – Toph and I – dragged him to the turtleduck pond. Now we all share whenever we can. That’s actually why Sokka and Suki came back, to arrange for better guards so that no one killed Zuko in the middle of the night.”

Aang’s fist is clenched tightly, and Katara gently takes hold of it to try to coax it back into relaxation. Her worry doesn’t fade, though. “Was he hurt?”

Aang flinches. “No, but the assassin almost slit his throat before he woke up.”

Katara’s stomach drops. She’d assumed that the assassin was a bender, and while Zuko’s control was impeccable, he’d probably been half asleep and scared out of his mind while fighting back. Her heart aches; none of the rest of them have to deal with this, especially on top of all of the other duties Zuko has as ruler of the Fire Nation. She lets out a breath, slowly.

“If the Kyoshi Warriors are here, he’s in good hands,” she says decisively. “And you said that Toph and he share a room?”

Her boyfriend nods.

“Then I don’t see why he won’t be fine. I’m guessing it’s the usual?”

“Yeah,” Aang admits. “It’s a good thing you’re here. You can scare him into taking care of himself.”

Katara giggles at the mental image.

“You know, he offered _personal_ reparations for the damage done to the Air Temples?”

Her eyes widen. “Really?”

“Yeah, he said that Ozai’s personal assets were frozen after he was imprisoned, and as Fire Lord he had a right to seize them for himself or for the nation. He took the first option and offered to pay for any reconstruction efforts.”

“It’s his inheritance, isn’t it?”

Aang shakes his head, smiling softly. “He was really pleased to explain this bit to me – Ozai disowned him as his son after the eclipse, but he was still a legal heir to the crown. He can’t inherit Ozai’s properties since his name was struck from the records, but he _can_ take them as Fire Lord.”

And Katara’s grinning too, now, because she understands exactly what Zuko has done. “So Ozai’s paying all of this,” she surmises.

“Yep! I have a feeling he’s going to split some of it for compensation to the Southern Water Tribe too,” he adds. “As a personal apology on behalf of his ancestors.”

She smiles. “It’s wonderful that you get to try to rebuild the Air Temples,” she says.

“I found some scrolls there, they were hidden when a section of the library collapsed. Firebenders couldn’t move the stone, so they let it be, but somehow those documents were saved. I’m working on reconstructing them too, see if I can find some way to restore a part of my culture.”

Katara hugs him. “That’s great,” she says sincerely, pulling back to look into his eyes. He’s gotten taller in the last three months, and now he’s almost exactly her height.

“I missed you,” Aang admits softly, and she can see his cheeks reddening under the bright moonlight.

“I missed you too,” she replies. “I’m glad I’m here.”

He smiles, soft and gentle and private – no one else sees this smile, she knows, and loves it. “I’m glad you’re here too.”

They lay back and watch the stars for the rest of the night.

* * *

It’s strange for a sixteen year old to be in charge of an entire nation, but Hakoda thinks the new Fire Lord is doing a far better job than his predecessor. It helps that he knows the boy personally, even if the few conversations they’d had had been in the presence of his kids and their friends and the one time he’d thanked Zuko for protecting Katara from Azula’s lightning strike after the war.

Bato seems to be rightly impressed as well, and he’s _definitely_ trying to make the meeting easier for them all. Hakoda’s not sure why, since it could be as much for his benefit as the young monarch’s. For his part, Zuko seems to be agreeing with most of the points he’s making, but the Fire Nation’s council is having a harder time of stomaching their presence. Civility is something they’re barely able to manage, but Hakoda deliberately turns away from the swallowed-down slights if only because calling them out would be a dreadful waste of time.

Oh, not to mention, Fire Lord Zuko looks absolutely terrible. Katara had told him about the assassination and that he hadn’t been sleeping well – according to Aang, whose judgement Hakoda trusts as much as her own or Sokka’s. Toph had cornered him this morning and told him that _somebody_ had better not make things difficult for him, and he’s not above admitting that he’s slightly terrified of the twelve-year-old earthbender. He’s more than willing to accept her self-made claim as ‘greatest earthbender in the world’ without question – he has no doubt regarding her abilities, considering his first encounter with them consisted of her _metalbending_ Fire Nation soldiers off their boat into the ocean below them.

He gets _why_ she’d asked him, too – it’s clear that the Fire Lord is more than honest about his intentions to assist the Southern Water Tribe with anything they may need, considering their population had been all but halved by raiders over the last half century. There’s no bringing back the lives lost, but Hakoda won’t blame Zuko for the sins of his ancestors, especially when he’s taking on so much of it already and doing his best to make amends.

He’s tired of the insults, though. Hakoda’s aware that they were enemies until very recently, but he’d really appreciate it if they remembered that more often than they seem to be at the moment.

“That’s enough, General,” Zuko cuts off what was shaping up to be something unforgettable in their tribe’s eyes, but the general looks mutinous at the order. So his position on the throne was not universally accepted, just as Hakoda had feared. He exchanges a look with Bato, who raises his brows minutely and turns back to the Fire Lord currently doing his best to control a swiftly escalating situation, before arriving at a silent consensus: _wrap it up and get them out_.

“Fire Lord Zuko, if I may,” Bato speaks up, “The monetary recompense you offered us would be remarkable for rebuilding efforts, especially once the Northern Water Tribe sends a delegation to help us with them. Their waterbenders will make use of the resources effectively, and we could build a monument to our own lost culture with the remaining funds. However, I’m afraid we’ll have to decline the aid of your people – the Southern Water Tribe will not take too kindly to them, since we’ve suffered severe losses by their hand.”

“I understand,” the teenager says carefully, raising a hand to silence the general who had previously spoken up. “Your request to re-evaluate our maritime borders was just, I shall look forward to meeting with the representatives of your people who join us for those discussions in the future as well.”

“Then we are at an agreement?”

The Fire Lord looks grateful under his carefully neutral mask. “I believe we are, sir. Unless Chief Hakoda has anything else to add?”

“Nothing that needs mentioning now, no,” he agrees mildly. He’s glad he only brought two ambassadors with him, to remain in the Fire Nation and accept the official roles once they’re experienced enough.

“The arrangements will be made as soon as they reach the respective offices,” Zuko announces, and dips his head in lieu of a bow. “The meeting is adjourned, though I’d like to speak with Chief Hakoda and… Bato? If you will?”

“Of course we don’t mind,” Bato says easily.

“Fire Lord, I don’t think–”

“Perhaps I should specify, I’d like to speak with them _in private_.”

The general gets the hint and all but scurries out of the council room. Zuko lets his shoulders slump just a bit when the door closes behind the last of them.

“Chief Hakoda, I sincerely apologise for the conduct of my people at this meeting,” he starts, but Hakoda waves it away. Yes, he’d been incredibly offended by the omitted insults and half bitten back slurs, but it isn’t his fault – in fact, he’s impressed by the level of civility the Fire Nation had expressed towards their delegation. The last time he’d been here, he’d been taken to the highest security prison (and subsequently been broken out of it by his son and the kid sitting in front of him).

“I wanted to talk to you about _personal_ reparations,” he said, leaning forward across the table in earnest. “I’m afraid I left your village defenceless when I attacked it during my hunt for the Avatar. I should like to make amends for that as well, and, well, I don’t think I’d personally be welcome any time soon among your people.”

“They will warm up to you, eventually,” Hakoda says, carefully not mentioning that he’d threatened _his_ village at the time. They’d been left unharmed, though, and aside from structural damages (Sokka’s watchtower, apparently), there hadn’t been any other issues. “You’ve already offered–”

Zuko shakes his head. “I’m not saying this as the Fire Lord on behalf of the Fire Nation, I’m doing this as an apology from _me_ , as Zuko, the guy who attacked your people, who were entirely innocent and uninvolved with the war.”

“Well, when you put it like that,” Hakoda mutters. “I appreciate the effort, Fire Lord Zuko.”

He coughs awkwardly into his hand. “Uh. Okay.”

Spirits, he’s a _kid_. What kind of mess did they make of the world to leave _children_ fixing their mistakes?

“I believe we should be getting ready for tonight’s welcoming banquet, Fire Lord,” Bato reminds gently, and Zuko flushes as he rises to his feet.

“Of course,” he says smoothly, as though he isn’t almost painfully awkward around people outside professional settings. “I’ll escort you part way through, but my rooms are in the other side of the palace so I could send for a steward…”

“There’s no need for that,” Hakoda says warmly. “I remember the way.”

“You mean _I_ remember the way, and you remember to follow me,” Bato corrects dryly, and Hakoda instinctively moves to hit him in the shoulder lightly. The action prompts Zuko to flick his gaze to Bato’s arm, and his eyes widen slightly as they take in the extensive damage and scarring. He doesn’t bring it up, and Hakoda thinks it’s because he’s used to others doing the same around him all the time and knows that others wouldn’t want to draw attention to it.

Some warriors like to flaunt their scars, or display them proudly as marks earned through their bravery. Bato isn’t one of them.

Hakoda would say that Zuko isn’t either, but the shape of his scar tells him that it isn’t a battle wound. He swallows the trepidation he feels at the connection and hopes that with everything else his kids have told him about their friend – and what he’s already observed – his conclusion is wrong. Just for once, he’d love to be proven wrong.

But when has the universe been that kind?

The three of them walk in amiable silence – as amiable as it can be when one of your party is a teenaged monarch tasked with something that borders on impossible (who you don’t even know all that well) and just so happens to be the friend of your children.

The other is your partner, after having the sense knocked into you by said children.

There’s a fork in the corridors, and Zuko stops for a moment, looking like he wants to say something but is still debating the merits of doing so. The warriors wait intently, just in case he does.

“There’s a salve,” he starts abruptly, looking up to meet Bato’s eyes. “My uncle got me this salve that helped hydrate my skin after it was burned. Your scarring won’t fade, but it’ll help with the itchiness and any other problems they’ll cause.”

Hakoda blinks, but apparently the kid isn’t done yet.

“If you’d like, I can have a batch sent to your rooms and get you the recipe. Most of the ingredients shouldn’t be hard to get, but I could just have the ointment sent to you directly when you return to the South Pole.”

Bato nods slowly. “That would be very kind of you, Fire Lord,” he says. “Are there any instructions on how regularly I should use it?”

“Once a day, usually at night,” Zuko says automatically. “But if it’s a bad day, as many times as you need. Twice or thrice should be enough, the paste has numbing and cooling properties too.”

Another nod. “I see. Thank you.”

“You’re… welcome,” Zuko says, awkward once more. He bows to both of them and, after a second of hesitation, reaches out to clasp their hands in traditional Water Tribe fashion. Hakoda is only slightly surprised that he took the time to learn this – he likely cornered Sokka and Katara and asked them every little detail about their culture that could possibly help him. That, or Sokka just _did_ it often in greeting by instinct, and Zuko filled in the gaps.

“I’ll see you at the banquet,” he says to the teenager with a smile.

Zuko nods and hurries towards his chambers. Hakoda blinks up at Bato a moment later. His partner’s face is inscrutable, angled features thrown into sharp relief against the torchlight.

“Are you alright?” he asks, squeezing his hand.

“I am,” Bato replies, squeezing back. “And I think we all will be, too.”

He’s right.

It’s a shame that their children are the ones who have to deal with the colossal mess of this war, Hakoda thinks, but at least this way he knows the world is in good hands.

**Author's Note:**

> My biromantic ace Zuko headcanon is still going strong - I feel like he'd prioritise being the Fire Lord and maintaing his friendships over romance, even if he is attracted to people. Perhaps I'm just projecting, but the way Zuko throws himself into any project he sets his mind to really gives me that sense.
> 
> Have I mentioned, I love how Mai and Zuko are really comfortable around each other? Regardless of whether they're romantically together, they're incredibly open with each other and it's amazing
> 
> I realised while writing "make the world safe and sound" that Mai didn't actually stop buying all the propaganda that the Fire Nation drilled into students' minds, and while I was initially planning on writing a scene where Zuko helps Mai reach the conclusions that he did earlier in the season (remember, in The Boiling Rock Mai still thought Zuko was betraying the Fire Nation by leaving) but this scene with Ty Lee flowed a lot better. I thought I'd also go ahead and flesh out her character a bit more, because why not?
> 
> The line about import substitution strategies is a nit of a throwaway detail, but it's taken from the economic system that India adopted in the years after the country won independence from British rule. It's a bit backwards here considering that the Fire Nation are technically England in this comparison (I've taken the British-colonised-India model for fleshing out the details of the effects of the war), but Ozai really didn't care about anyone's fate but his own, as seen in 'The Painted Lady' with the riverine village suffering from the nearby weapons factory pollution. Enter Zuko with fresh ideas on how to solve all of those problems too, which seem more doable than literally every other part of his job.
> 
> 'Zuko is good at budgeting' is a headcanon that sprung up out of nowhere. I think I got the idea from watching how Iroh kept buying random stuff they didn't need and Zuko got really upset about it, and when they were in the Earth Kingdom *one* of them had to make sure they didn't overspend what they earned, and it *definitely* wasn't Uncle. In all fairness, as a member of the royal family, he would probably have had that sort of training instead of a more military-based background in education, unlike Iroh's side of the family (since Iroh was Crown Prince until Ozai usurped the throne).
> 
> Oof, that got a bit long. I hope you all enjoyed it, I'd love to read your thoughts in the comments!


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